


Cheese Eaters - Chapter 1

by leofire608



Series: Cheese Eaters - A Fantomex/Batroc fiction [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M, No Smut, Rated Mature because as a whole this series will be, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leofire608/pseuds/leofire608
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master thief Fantomex meets with a contact to discuss a very unusual job. Fortunately, those are a specialty of his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheese Eaters - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a strip from 'X-Men: To Serve and Protect' #1. But that strip isn't canon for this series.
> 
> This is set in a world that's *loosely* inspired by 616. In this reality, Fantomex never came back to the X-Men after he first met them, deciding to actually live out the master thief persona he initially concocted.
> 
> Also, picture Justine Hammer as Viola Davis. Especially as she played Annalise Keating in 'How to Get Away With Murder'.

# Cheese Eaters,

# Chapter 1:

# First Contact, Part 1:

# The Job

# Fantomex X Batroc

_December 18, 2014_

_7:10 PM_

_Paris, France_

…  
“Should never have taken this job,” the thief muttered as he fell backwards over the roof’s edge.  
[[So I said. More than once,]] the voice in his head replied.  
The thief grimaced as he saw the ground rising to meet him. “So smug when you are right. Any chance of a rescue?”  
[[I am over 100 feet above you, as you ordered. I cannot descend at sufficient speed. You will impact in 3.2 seconds,]] the voice said in its ever-mellow tone.  
“You will feel this too, you know,” the thief huffed in response.  
[[Feel what? One moment, please, I am deploying protective measures.]]  
“Measures? What...?” The thief was thoroughly confused. He twisted, trying to at least put his feet under him. Not that it would help with a seven story drop, he thought.  
And then he saw something silvery, the size and shape of a basketball, rush from above him at lightning speed.  
[[2.0 seconds and counting,]] the voice intoned.  
The mysterious sphere struck the ground, but did not shatter. It instead expanded, a foamy substance springing into place from its impact point.  
“A landing pad! Genius!”  
[[One of us has to be, I think. Tuck in your knees.]]  
The thief did so, and struck the pad 1.5 seconds later.  
“Thank you for that, E.V.A.,” thought the thief as he stood, shaking out his jacket.  
[[You are welcome, Fantomex. Now I advise you to move, your pursuer is making his way down to you.]]  
Fantomex sighed loudly. “Remind me where it all went wrong, please?”  
[[Would you like me to start from the beginning, then?]]  
“Droll. But if you could, please?” And then the dark alleyway was fading away…  
…

_December 16, 2014_

_9:00 PM_

_Chicago, Illinois_

…  
The woman sat alone in the dark room, looking out the window over the night skyline. The room was quiet, as she preferred; no radio, no television, no music. She closed her eyes and inhaled once, then exhale-

*Tap*

The woman’s eyes snapped open and she spun in the desk chair. A figure stood in the middle of the room who had not been there before.  
“Fantomex, I presume?”  
The figure was that of a tall and slim man, dressed in a skin-tight white jumpsuit with matching gloves and boots. His whole body was covered in the clinging fabric, and a featureless white mask hid his face. Only yellow goggles revealed his eyes, which stared deeply into hers.  
“You presume right, Ms. Hammer. I am here about the service you…consulted me for?”  
The mask did not move as he spoke, in a level tone with a subtle accent; _‘French?’_ Justine Hammer guessed it was not fabric, but some sort of ceramic material. _‘Interesting design,’_ she thought.  
“Good. Please have a seat,” she said, gesturing widely to the chair just to the left of her desk, “and we’ll talk. And call me Justine, if you don’t mind.”  
Fantomex strode to the chair, sitting with his left foot propped on his right knee. He leaned back into the red cushions, feeling the supple give of the leather.  
“Very dark room, Justine. But having already investigated you,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I am hardly surprised.”  
Justine’s eyes flickered quickly over the room. “A curious statement. You say you… _investigated_ me?”  
Fantomex’s pose did not change. “But of course, Justine. You cannot believe that I jump to just anyone’s call?”  
She smirked as she spoke, “I’m _flattered_ that I warrant your attention, then.” She glanced up to the ceiling, and then at Fantomex again. “You came in through the vents? How curious, seeing as how they’re alarmed…”  
“I have a… _way_ with alarms, Justine,” he replied.  
She stared straight into his eyes. “They’re also electrified. You have a… _way_ , with 10,000 volts of charge?” She responded, mimicking his wry tone.  
“ _Only_ 10,000?”  
She could practically hear the smirk he must have had under the mask. “It takes more than that to hurt me, I’m afraid. And if that is your intent…,” he said, leaning forward in the chair and speaking in a low voice, “I would advise against it. It would go poorly for you.”  
She looked him up and down once. “You’re not even armed. Even if you did not expect a fight, I would think you would be prepared for one…”  
She stood then, and walked to stand in front of him. She heard his breath catch, as he saw her. Her expertly cut pencil skirt and long-sleeved blouse were both crimson, set off with a black sash around her waist. The colour set off her umber skin beautifully. _‘I guess I do still cut a good figure,’_ she thought  
“But relax, I’m not here to threaten. Not while I still require your services.”  
Fantomex looked straight up at her. “Good to know, Justine. I thought this was going well, and I hate being proved wrong.”  
She stepped to the left, walked around the desk, and then sat again. “Now, what does my taste in interior décor have to do with anything, out of curiosity?”  
Fantomex straightened in the chair, and lowered his left foot to the floor. “You are currently CEO of Hammer Defence Solutions, Inc. Unapologetic peddler of advanced weapons to conflicts around the globe. Word has it that your company’s products have taken over a million lives in the last decade alone.”  
Now he stood, and strode over to her desk, “So it seems fitting that you keep to the darkness, if you don’t mind my saying so.”  
Justine arched her right eyebrow, and leaned back. “You _have_ done your research. But enough verbal fencing. Please have a seat, Fantomex, and we’ll get down to business.”  
He walked away and sat back down in the chair. “Of course, Justine.”  
“Ms. Hammer, now, if you don’t mind.” She opened a drawer in the desk, and withdrew a manila envelope stuffed with papers. She then walked over and handed Fantomex the file. “These are the details of your assignment. Look them over, please, and don’t be shy about questions.”  
Before she could even sit back down, he had one. “You want me to steal from…Hammer Industries? Your _brother’s_ company?”  
She sat, and crossed her arms. “Indeed. My inside agents have reported that he has developed a new technology. Details begin on page seven.”  
Fantomex flipped to page seven, and read for several seconds before speaking again. “Your brother has…I do not know what this is, Ms. Hammer.” He resumed reading, squinting as though that would help.  
She almost scoffed, but caught herself. “Are you familiar with Professor Charles Xavier?”  
Fantomex glanced up from the papers. “Mutant rights activist, leader of the X-Men, self-professed to be the most powerful telepath on Earth? Yes, I am familiar, though...not directly.”  
“Good,” Justine replied. “And are you familiar with his Cerebra technology?”  
Fantomex looked down at the papers. “No, Ms. Hammer, I am not. But I suppose you can enlighten me?”  
“It’d be my pleasure. Cerebra is a device designed to amplify telepathic signals from its user, allowing for increased sensitivity and transmission capability across a wider radius than normal. The design is patented, and classified by S.H.I.E.L.D. as top-secret.”  
“But my brother,” she pointed at the envelope, “managed to insert an inside agent into Xavier’s Westchester Institute for Gifted Persons. I believe that said agent, who is currently unknown to me or my contacts, managed to obtain some schematics via direct observation of the device. And now my brother has reverse-engineered Cerebra.”  
Fantomex put the papers down in his lap. “And that is such an issue why, Ms. Hammer?”  
She got up, walked to the front of her desk, and then leaned back against it. “He has miniaturized it. Into that helmet. And all he needs is a telepath to use it.”  
“A telepath? So you mean that he could…” Fantomex’s voice trailed off as he began to think.  
“Now you’re thinking correctly. All he needs is a sufficiently powerful user, and he could make _armies_ march to his step. He could throw small nations into conflict with but a _thought_. To say nothing of… larger ones.”  
Fantomex looked down at the floor, leaning forward to put his hands over his mouth. “He could ignite wars. And profit off of them.”  
“That’s not even the worst of it.” Justine leaned towards the thief. “Do you know why Justin left and _I_ inherited the company from Daddy dearest?”  
“Because all I care about,” she said in a softer voice, “at the end of the day, is a _dollar sign_. But Justin, oh no. Justin had _goals_ , and _plans_. He wanted to use our firm’s technology to further ends of his own.”  
“So just imagine, please, what he will do with that,” she said, pointing to the blueprint in Fantomex’s hands.  
He looked up at her now, and with determination in his voice, “So you wish me to steal it? These schematics?”  
“Oh Fantomex, we’re past that. I’ve just received word that he has a functional prototype at Hammer Industries’ Paris facility. First test scheduled for noon in three days, in the Darfur region of Sudan. You have until then to retrieve the prototype, and then bring it to me.”  
“And you will…do what with it, exactly, Ms. Hammer? If you do not mind me asking?”  
“I plan to turn it over to a contact within S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s very development, not to mention production and intended usage, violates multiple statutes on advanced weapons. Justin will go away for a very long time, if all goes well.”  
“Happy to help with your business, Ms. Hammer. But I have new questions, then, regarding the facility…”  
“Blueprints and security layout as of one week ago are in that folder. As are guard shifts.”  
Fantomex leaned back in the chair, flipping through the papers. “I suppose I’ll have to prep in-route to Paris, then. You have no further assistance you could provide? Say, perhaps, some secret Hammer tech-”  
Justine raised a hand to cut him off. “I, and my firm, cannot be shown to have a connection to this, Fantomex. Which means that you’ll have to acquire your own equipment, I’m afraid. But your fee includes expenses already, yes?”  
“Yes, it does. Speaking of which,” he said as he stood, “my money transfer-”  
“Initial payment _just_ went through, upon confirmation that you accepted the assignment.” Justine leaned back and crossed her arms, an amused look on her face.  
Fantomex stared her straight on, squinting almost quizzically. “Excellent work, Ms. Hammer. Pleasure doing business with you.”  
He walked around her, to the window. Unlatching it, he then slid it open. “Excuse me, but time is apparently of the essence.”  
Justine swivelled the chair to look at him. “I wasn’t aware you could fly…”  
And then Fantomex threw his legs up and leapt out the open window.  
Justine leapt up, arms outstretched to the thief, and then the world blazed white. She stopped in her tracks and curled in on herself, halfway into a foetal position. She blinked hard to adjust her eyes, and then looked up and out the window, at a most unusual sight.  
It was an aircraft, she could tell, but not one she had ever seen before. It was shaped like a flying saucer out of a children’s story, formed out of quicksilver metal that flowed and flexed even as she watched. The central portion, she could see, was about 30 feet wide, and ringed with two disks. Each disk was rotating, with the top rotating clockwise and the lower turning counter. A soft, electronic hum emanated from the machine as it simply hovered before her.  
“Fantomex?” Justine whispered. The desk phone rang, and she jumped. She answered it, trying her hardest not to shake from the adrenaline.  
“Indeed! Sorry for the scare, Justine, but I do so _love_ a dramatic exit…”  
“Do that again,” Justine said, as she rose, “and I’ll hire a _professional_ to do the job, and another to make you regret it. _Understood_ , Fantomex?”  
There was a pause. “Clearly, Ms. Hammer. I will return once the mission is complete, then?”  
“See that you do. Goodbye, Fanto-”  
But the craft was already pulling away, and then it flew off into the night. 


End file.
